|in search of a 5 by 8 red moleskine
||[Jan. 28th, 2010|02:52 pm]
I finished my journal, the black beat up one, on the way back to school, nearly two and a half years after I started it. There was something right about finishing it much the same way I began it: on a plane carrying me away from my home. |
So much has happened since then, and I have grown so much that it's sometimes hard to believe. And yet I'm still the same person, really, just a bit more refined, more confident, and, overall, happier.
And now, I miss having a paper journal like none other. I know what I want but I haven't been able to find it, and I'm not willing to settle. Computer is perfect for some things, like those headlong rushes of infatuation with a new idea, a new experience. But for rainy days drinking weak coffee there is nothing better than ink on paper, letters looping and running together, tumbling out, handwriting saying something about your surroundings, your mood.
Today has been, on the whole, rather disappointing. Nothing bad, per say, just a bit of a let down. Also, hooray for awkward moments. And by hooray, I mean ugh. I think I need to just stop being so impatient with everything, but with the cute boy in Middle Eastern History in particular.
I am a product of the now generation, very much so. I just want things to happen now, to know things, to push ahead to what could be. I want to learn to slow down, to get to know someone week by week without pushing, without facebook and text messages and the like. Just a slow building of friendship, nothing more. I need to stop being so afraid of being understood, of being found out. There's nothing wrong, really, with someone suspecting/knowing that you are or might be interested, but I hate it. I just want...I don't know what I want.
I think I've stopped being interested in Kevin, now that he has become more real to me, which is really probably for the best. It's not a rejection of who he is, just a better understanding of how we relate to each other. I should be seeing him every week now, what with ballroom, which will be nice, because I do enjoy his company very much, except for when he makes things awkward for no reason.
On the first day of Wold Lit Professor Moore made us all check in before class got underway:
Physically I'm neutral, emotionally I'm discontent, mentally I'm restless. Or maybe reverse those last two...yes, emotionally restless, mentally discontent. This will pass, though, as all emotions do, which is something Professor Moore likes to remind us frequently. I think it would do most of good to remember that no matter how we feel, we will not always feel this way. Everything is temporary, and this too shall pass away.
I guess it's just that I'm feeling a little cut off from possibilities, after the past few days of wild imagining. I'm not quite settled into peaceful routine, not quite enthralled with all that could be. I almost wish it would start pouring right now, just so I could go out and let my skin, my hair, become soaked and chilled, watch the goosebumps prickle on my arms, feel my muscles contract as a shudder runs down my spine. This is what I want more than anything--to feel perfectly alive for as much of my existence as possible. That doesn't mean I want to be jubilant, excited, giggly all the time, but that that I just want to feel with all of me, sadness included, sometimes even preferred.
This entry is getting longer and longer, because there's just so many words inside of me-I love translating experience into description, words, phrases, sentences, paragraphs. Normally my LJ entries are more focused, crafted with my readers in mind, whereas this is more like what I would write in my journal, messy and confusing to anyone who's not me. Maybe next entry will achieve some sense of cohesion.